Love Is Blind
by fakiagirl
Summary: USUK, some Franada. After Arthur is blinded in an accident, his social life becomes all but nonexistent. One day, though, his old friend Francis introduces him to a man named Alfred. . . . Two-shot, AU.
1. Part I

_Author's note: _Sorry for the lame title. ^^; This was intended to be a oneshot, but I just kept writing . . . and writing . . . so now it's a very long two-parter. :) To be clear: The chick-flick and science fiction movie do not exist. If they do, it's complete coincidence.

* * *

><p><em>Part I<em>

Arthur heard the door slam, and then Francis's voice, loud and charming. He was clearly talking to someone else, and Arthur heard a quiet voice give a small reply. The door closed and Arthur heard footsteps approach – two pairs, one subtle and unfamiliar.

"Arthur!" said Francis happily. "I'd like you to meet Matthew. Matthew, this is Arthur Kirkland."

"Hello," said a quiet voice.

Arthur smiled. "Hello. A pleasure to finally meet you."

"Matthew," Francis added quietly, "If you'd like Arthur to see you, you can let him touch your face."

There was a small silence. "It's fine if it makes you uncomfortable," Arthur said. "I don't really need to–"

"No, it's fine," said the quiet voice, and he felt a hand take his own and guide it upwards. "I normally wear glasses. I was just taking them off."

"I see," said Arthur, and he felt soft hair brush his fingers. There was Matthew's earlobe; there was the line of his jaw. He guided his fingers across the planes of Matthew's face carefully, slowly, letting his mind build the picture for him. "Your hair is even softer than Francis's," he mused as his hand brushed against a bit of fringe. He heard Francis chuckle in the background. There were his eyebrows, his nose. . . . Satisfied, Arthur let his hands drop and sat back. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Matthew said, and Arthur could hear him fumble a little as he put his glasses back on.

"I'll get us something to drink, shall I?" said Francis. "Please, Matthew, have a seat."

There was a slight rustle as Matthew settled into the couch on Arthur's right, perpendicular to his own armchair. "So how did you and Francis meet?" Arthur asked kindly. "I know work, but Francis never explained it."

"I work down the hall from him. I'd seen him around, sometimes, but we ended up sitting across from one another at a meeting. He asked me to dinner afterwards."

Arthur nodded, his head propped up on his hand. "I see. That is Francis, always the forward type." He smiled.

Footsteps approached from the direction of the kitchen. "Arthur, I just got you some water. You always complain when I try to make you tea." Arthur made a face, but he didn't deny it; it was true. He heard the clink of his cup of water being set down on the side table. "And lemonade for you, Matthew."

"Thank you."

Francis sat down. "So, Arthur, how has your day been?"

"Not particularly eventful," Arthur replied, resisting Francis's attempt at small talk. Francis had been stupid to ask; his days were never eventful.

"Did you work on your sweater?"

"A bit." Arthur tried to glare in his general direction without accidentally hitting Matthew.

"Arthur's knitting a sweater. It's really quite complicated. It has, what's that called?"

"Cabling."

"Right, all over it. His last project was a scarf. He's gotten quite good."

Arthur sipped at his water just for something to do. He'd forgotten how much he hated trying to be polite. He frowned at the compliment.

"I see," Matthew said, not taking the bait either.

"And how has your day been, Francis?" Arthur asked, pointedly.

"Oh, I had a _lovely_ lunch with Matthew," Francis purred, "and then we went to the movies. It was a romantic comedy. You would have liked it, Arthur. It was about this single mother, her daughter had just gone off to college–"

"And let me guess, she falls in love with her neighbor who's been there all along. Or maybe the postman."

"Er, _oui_. The neighbor. Well, anyway, you'll never guess what happened next. It was going great but then–"

"Her daughter comes home unexpectedly with her new boyfriend and the mother has to cover up her new relationship, but then the daughter finds out in the end, and she's really happy for her mum, and they all live happily ever after." There was dead silence. Arthur scowled. "What?"

"That was . . . surprisingly good, Arthur," Francis said quietly.

"You even got the daughter's new boyfriend," Matthew added, sounding impressed.

"You only have to see a few of those things or read a few books like that before you start picking up on these things. It's really not that difficult," Arthur said with a frown.

"Have you ever seen the science fiction movie where they find a new dwarf planet in the solar system, and they go to explore it?" Matthew asked curiously.

"No. Does it turn out to be a damaged colony of aliens that promptly kill the entire crew except for a few people, and they have to single-handedly destroy the planet, and or alien ship, before they can reach Earth?"

Matthew let out a little surprised breath. "Repair the core of the alien ship practically at gunpoint, actually, but yes."

"I see. That must have forced a lot of unbelievable coincidences between our technology and theirs, then."

"Yes. The plot point was that we had actually invented a lot of things based on accidental transmissions from their planet, and had then simply gone on a simply different direction."

"I see." Arthur nodded. "Adds the emotional connection, I suppose. It's a good sell for why we would want to save them."

"You know," Matthew said, "That's one of my brother's favorite movies."

"Oh?" Arthur asked, not really seeing how this was related.

"Alfred?" Francis asked curiously.

"Yes," Matthew said to both. "I think . . . you might like meeting him."

Francis actually let out a snort of laughter. "Ah . . . excuse me, _cherie. _I hardly believe that Alfred is Arthur's type."

"Why not?" Matthew asked. There was the hint of a challenge in his voice. _Ah, so he does have spunk, _Arthur thought with a smirk. _Francis needs a bit of that to keep him in line._

"Well," Francis said, slightly defensively, "Alfred is rather loud, and very talkative. Arthur can't stand people like that." (_Oh good, _Arthur thought. _Francis takes Matthew seriously enough to feel threatened by him. He won't brush him off like he usually does._)

"Alfred is loud, yes, but he quiets down when he's only talking to one person. Besides, he's not cruel. He'll listen if Arthur tells him he's bothering him."

"Then why doesn't he listen to _me_?" Francis asked irritatedly.

"Because you're mine," Matthew said simply.

There was a pause. "You and your brother have a strange way of justifying things," Francis said, but Arthur could hear the smile in his voice. There was a slight intake of breath and rustle of cloth, and Arthur could tell that he had just kissed Matthew. Arthur scowled but didn't say anything. It was clear that Francis and Matthew had their relationship figured out, and he wasn't going to interfere with that.

However, there was only so long he was going to something like that go on. After a few moments too long of silence, Arthur cleared his throat. "Well, I wouldn't be opposed to meeting him, as long as you don't try to set us up."

"Oh, that would be wonderful then," Francis said, his voice a little too throaty for Arthur's comfort. "When do you think he would be free? Next Saturday, say? Lunchtime?"

"I think so," said Matthew.

"Excellent. We can all make a date out of it, _non?" _Arthur could practically hear Francis grinning, and suddenly he wondered if this was going to turn out to be a very bad idea.

* * *

><p>On Saturday a bit before 1 o'clock, Arthur was pacing back and forth in front of his armchair in the living room. Francis had gone to pick up Matthew and then come back to pick up Arthur, because Arthur still hadn't been ready when Francis had left nearly twenty minutes earlier. The door slammed open and he heard Francis's hurried footsteps. "Arthur? Where are you?"<p>

"Where I always am," Arthur said sharply, and turned his head to where he knew Francis was standing, just inside the doorway. "I assume Matthew's with you?"

"He's waiting in the car. Do you have your cane?"

"I'm not bringing it," Arthur said in a tone that brooked no argument.

"Not–? Where is it?"

"In my bedroom. I don't need it."

"Of course you do," Francis said dismissively, and Arthur scowled. "Don't you want to be on time? I thought you hated being late!"

"Don't you dare get it," Arthur growled as he heard Francis's voice recede into the back of their apartment.

"I'll just keep it in the trunk for when you decide to stop being an imbecile," Francis said, suddenly at his side again. "Now come on."

"I'm coming," Arthur snapped, and navigated his way around the coffee table and through the short entrance room as quickly as he could. He felt Francis at his side, and then Francis took his elbow and led him through the doorway, down the hall, and into the sun.

He could feel it on his face. Francis released his arm so that he could navigate the steps on his own, but once he reached the bottom he hesitated. Francis reappeared and guided him off the curb and into the car, and then they were off.

"How's the weather?" Arthur asked from the back of the car.

"Sunny, a few clouds," answered Matthew from the front seat. "Nice."

"Ah." Arthur turned his head towards where he knew the window was. He remembered the view; there was the supermarket, just past the gas station. They were turning a corner now, past the last of the residential buildings. They'd go over the freeway to get to downtown, and from there it would be a few blocks to where they were going . . . but he was getting ahead of himself. "So tell me," he said, turning towards Matthew, "What is Alfred really like?"

"Well . . . he likes to talk a lot. He smiles pretty much all the time and gets excited easily. He really likes science, and science fiction, and movies in general. He really likes fast food, too, but he works out a lot."

"Huh. What does he look like?"

"Blond hair, blue eyes – like me, I guess. But his hair isn't as soft."

Francis chuckled. "Good to know," Arthur said wryly, and couldn't completely hide a smile.

They pulled up. Arthur managed to get out of the car and up onto the sidewalk without killing himself. "It's over here," Francis said, and put a hand on Arthur's elbow to guide him across the busy sidewalk and into the restaurant. When they got inside, Arthur turned his head constantly, trying to orient himself. "There's a fourth person in our party, a Mr. Jones? Has he arrived?"

"Yes, your table is just over here. Right this way."

"Jones?" Arthur asked as Francis led him deeper into the restaurant.

"Yes. We're half-brothers."

Arthur jumped; he had already forgotten that Matthew was there. The constant wall of noise was disorienting him more than he had expected. "I see."

"Ah, Alfred," said Francis suddenly, and they stopped. "How good to see you. Arthur, why don't you sit next to Matthew." He deposited Arthur on one side of their booth.

"I'll sit on the end," Matthew said helpfully, and Arthur obligingly scooted over until he was against the wall. He felt more relaxed with something solid next to him.

"Alfred, I'd like to introduce you to my good friend Arthur."

Francis's voice came to him from a diagonal; so Alfred was in front of him, then. He stuck out a hand quickly, hopefully before Alfred could do the same. A hand took his. It was large and warm. "Hello," said Arthur.

"Hey," said a voice he had never heard before. There was a smile in that voice, and warmth. "I'm Alfred Jones."

"Arthur Kirkland," Arthur returned, and the hand released his.

"Hey Mattie! How ya been?"

"Fine. I'm glad you could make it."

"Yeah, me too. Hey, Francis. Long time no see."

"Hello, Alfred. I'm sorry to keep you waiting. Arthur was being unusually stubborn."

Arthur scowled in his general direction. "Actually, I believe Francis was being the stubborn one. I do apologize on his behalf."

"Oh, pardon me, did I say unusually? Because he is always like that."

Arthur was fully prepared to lunge across the table and throttle Francis by hearing alone, when Alfred laughed. It wasn't a chuckle. It was a full-throated laugh that made Arthur want to join in. How long had it been since he had heard someone laugh that hard? "You guys seriously _live_ together?" Alfred asked, still laughing. "How does _that _work?"

"We manage," they both said at once. It came out with less venom than Arthur had intended, and for some reason instead of making a face at Francis he felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth.

Arthur turned his attention to the person in front of him. "Matthew tells me you like movies."

"Yup," Alfred said happily. "Crazy about them. I own pretty much every good movie made. Ever."

"That's quite a claim," Arthur said. "How do you know, if you haven't seen them all? I mean, I _assume_ you haven't seen them all. . . ."

"Well, of course not, but that's where the 'pretty much' comes in." Arthur could practically hear Alfred grinning. "Besides, by the time I'm dead, who knows? Hey, dude, are you going to look at your menu, or what?"

Arthur blinked. He felt Matthew freeze next to him. "Uh, I usually ask for a recommendation, or order the special if Francis is paying." He paused. "I would have a very hard time trying to look at my menu, unless they come in Braille now."

There was a moment of silence. _He can't seriously be this dense, can he? _Arthur thought worriedly. _Even if both Francis and Matthew neglected to tell him, it's not that hard to figure out. _

"Why would–? Wait, you mean you're– Oh woah, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to–"

"You can say it. It's not like it's news to me," Arthur said, trying hard not to smile at the ridiculousness of the situation.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't realize you were blind–"

"Is it really that hard to figure out?" Arthur began to drum his fingers on his leg, a nervous habit he had picked up. It helped drown out the noise and vibrations he didn't care about, he found. "Francis did have to lead me here by the arm." (He could hear Francis mutter something something about his cane. He ignored him.)

"Well, yeah, but maybe he was just being protective or something? _I_ don't know."

Arthur sighed. "Well, I'm sorry if you were led here under false pretenses. Despite my best efforts, Francis seems to be trying to set us up on a double date."

"Yeah, I gathered that, but hey, this is really just about meeting another person, isn't it? We can decide if it was a date later."

Arthur's hand stilled. _We. _What did "we" mean? "We" as in "We are definitely not on a date, so there isn't going to be anything to decide later," or an honest _we, _as in, "Hey, you're a person too. Let's just enjoy ourselves."

"May I get you something to drink?" asked a waitress.

Francis sighed. "Nothing for me. Matthew?"

"No thank you."

"Me neither, thanks," Arthur said.

"A coke, please," Alfred said. "Extra large."

"Would you mind if we ordered now, too? We're ready," Francis said sweetly. Had they really been waiting that long? Arthur didn't know.

"Of course. What can I get you?"

Arthur zoned out while the others ordered. Finally it was his turn. "Can you tell me what the special was, again?" he asked apologetically. She described it to him. It sounded expensive. "I'll have that." She left. He could feel Francis's glare on him. He smirked at him. He knew that Francis knew what he meant: _You make me come here, I make you pay. _

Francis asked Matthew something and Arthur immediately tuned both of them out. "So Alfred, what is your favorite movie?"

"Ooooh man, I have no idea. There are way too many. I mean, like, _The Titanic _is so classic, but . . . maybe _Once Upon a Time in Mexico? _I mean, if you've seen some of his other films, you get what he was playing off of, and he did such a good job . . . but can anything really beat _Citizen Kane? _Oh man, and . . ." Alfred quickly became lost listing titles, second-guessing his own preferences, even when he decided that he'd have to at least do it by genre. "But then there are the ones that have no genre!" he said. "It's really just impossible."

Arthur nodded. "I completely understand."

"Yeah. I used to have favorites, but then every time I thought I'd seen the best movie ever, I'd see one that was better or just as good." There was a pause. "Do you actually like movies, or were you just being polite?" It sounded like an honest question.

"Well, I liked them, but not enough to be able to carry a conversation about them." He shrugged. "Sometime it's just nice to hear someone else talk."

"Ah." Alfred seemed to think about that, because he became unusually quiet.

"You know," Arthur said, "I can't actually see you, but I do have a way of telling what you look like."

"Really?" Alfred sounded excited, so Arthur skipped the if-it-makes-you-uncomfortable speech.

"Yes. I can touch your face. I call it seeing, because it's the closest I can get now."

"Sounds cool."

"You should take off your glasses, Al," Matthew said.

"No," Arthur said. "Leave them on. I'm curious about what kind you wear." _So he wears glasses too, hmm? _He reached out his hands. "Guide me to you. I don't want to punch you in the face."

Alfred chuckled and Arthur felt that warm hand on his again. "I get it."

Arthur's fingers settled on something soft and something cool. _His hair; his temple; his glasses' frames. _His fingers drifted downwards, across Alfred's mouth, and then up to his ears again. He ran his fingers along the rim of Alfred's glasses. The frames were thin. The lenses were in a roughly rectangular shape, but they were slightly rounded and they curved downwards slightly. Not too square; they probably looked elegant on him, with his long straight nose. "What color?" he asked.

"Silver."

Arthur nodded and gently slipped them off. He set them on the table between them and leaned forward again, not needing Alfred's guidance now that he knew where he was. He brushed thumbs across his eyebrows, then down the slope above the corner of his eyes. They weren't too deeply set, nor too wide or large, but neither were they small. As he ran his finger down the inside of his nose, Alfred blinked and he felt eyelashes brush his hand. Not particularly long, as Matthew's had been; thick, though. He found himself running a finger along their edge and blushed. Alfred had kept his eyes perfectly open, but had anyone done that to Arthur, he knew that he would have started and backed away. He withdrew his hands and cleared his throat. "I hope you'll forgive me for not putting your glasses back on, but I don't want to poke you in the eye."

Alfred chuckled and Arthur could hear the slight click as he picked them up. "It's fine."

Arthur swallowed, suddenly aware that Francis and Matthew had gone quiet some time ago, and they were probably staring at them, at _him. _He normally didn't take so long or go so in depth, but he'd been curious. That was reasonable, wasn't it? "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

"Not at all. That was really cool. Do you do that to everyone you meet?"

"Not really. Only when I expect to see them more than once." He blushed, realizing what he was implying. "You are Matthew's brother, after all."

"So you did this to Mattie?"

"Yes."

"Do we . . . look . . . different to you? Because people say we look like twins, but we're not. 'Cept for the hair, of course. We're both blonds, though, so even that's not so noticeable if I haven't had a haircut in a while."

Arthur didn't have to think about that. "No, you look very different to me. Maybe it's just because I can only see the details, not the whole picture. Your noses, for example, aren't the same, so I focus on that when I think of you. Your jawlines are also different, though that's more subtle." He hesitated. "Besides, just like everyone else, I think, I don't really see _you. _I see my impression of you, including what expression I associate with you, the sound of your voice. . . . I just depend more on that aspect of things than you do."

"Huh. So you must really have to think about this stuff."

"Not really consciously, anymore."

"When did it become natural? I hope you don't mind me asking, but . . . I take it you haven't always been this way. When did it happen?"

"Oh." Arthur had to think about that. "Three years? Give or take."

"Ah, 'kay." Alfred didn't ask for more.

"Ah, food," Francis said happily, and Arthur sat back. A plate was placed in front of him. He quickly found his silverware and unwrapped it from his napkin. He put the napkin on his lap and hesitated. He turned his head, trying to sort out the sounds from their table. He had heard the _clunk _as something was placed in front of Matthew, but he hadn't been paying enough attention to see if Francis had gotten his food. There was a slight clink that could have been a fork. But Alfred . . . Alfred definitely didn't have his food yet. Arthur sat back.

"Don't bother to wait for Al," Matthew said. "He always orders double everything, so his food always comes late."

"It's worth the wait, as long as they actually double everything," Alfred said playfully.

"If you're sure," Arthur said.

"I am," replied Alfred.

Arthur started eating. Alfred's food didn't come too much later. Matthew, Francis, and Alfred joked and laughed, but Arthur was content to simply listen and eat. Lunch was over far too soon.

"I'll walk out with you," Alfred said as everyone began to shift around and stand up.

"Of course," said Matthew as he slid out of the booth. "You were saying you finally sold that couch?"

"Yeah! 50 bucks, but it was on its last legs, so better than nothing, right?"

Arthur scooted to the outside of the booth and stood up hesitantly. Their voices were already retreating, though they hadn't gotten far.

"Last legs? Literally?" asked Francis with a chuckle.

"Aw, no! Don't roll your eyes at me, Matt. I didn't mean to, honest!"

Arthur followed them closely, probably too close for their comfort, but he didn't want to get separated. There was a sharp noise beside him, probably silverware hitting a plate; he felt movement in the air and sidestepped what was probably a table.

"Sure you didn't," Matthew said. He was farther away than Arthur had expected, and he took a quick step forward. He caught the back of someone's shoe and he stumbled with a grunt.

"Hey there, easy," said Alfred, and he felt a firm hand on his arm. "Let me help you out."

"Thank you," Arthur said, turning his face towards him.

Alfred guided him quickly through the rest of the restaurant, and Arthur couldn't help letting out a little sigh when they stepped outside. Francis and Matthew had started up a conversation, but Alfred had remained quiet. He led Arthur across the sidewalk before he stopped and let go of his arm. "Glad to be out of there, huh?"

"A bit," Arthur admitted. "Thank you," he said again. "I appreciate it."

"No problem."

"Arthur," Francis called, and Arthur turned towards him. "You might want to look up a bit. Alfred probably finds it strange that you're talking to his chest."

Arthur scowled and turned back to Alfred, raising his head a bit. "How tall are you?" he demanded.

"Uhhh, I dunno? Six-something?"

Arthur reached out an arm and hit muscle. Okay, Matthew hadn't been lying when he said that Alfred worked out. Well, that was nice. For Alfred. Right. He hastily ran his hand up Alfred's shoulder, trying to make it not look like he was going about it too appreciatively. Okay, there was his shoulder. He continued up Alfred's neck and to the top of his head. Arthur angled his head correctly and pulled his hand away. "Better?" he asked stiffly.

Alfred chuckled. "Yeah, lots."

"You could have told me."

"Sorry. I didn't want to . . . I don't know, bother you."

"You don't need to worry about that. I appreciate the bother if it keeps me from embarrassing myself."

"Got it. I'll keep it in mind." Arthur could tell he was smiling.

"Come on you two, let's get going," called Francis. Alfred put a hand on Arthur's back to guide him lightly to the car. He stopped, and Arthur put out a hand and felt metal. He turned back to Alfred.

"It was nice to meet you."

"Yeah, you too. Maybe we can do this again some time. If you want to contact me, Mattie can probably tell you more than you want to know. And he can always give me your and Francis's number."

Arthur smiled. "Right. Thanks."

"See ya."

"Bye."

Arthur got in the car and closed the door. "You seemed pretty taken with him," Francis said. He was probably winking.

"Yeah, he was nice. I liked him. Not in a romantic way," he added hurriedly, "But as a friend. He seemed to have the potential for good conversation."

"I think he liked you too," Matthew said. "He's not normally so relaxed around people."

"Relaxed?" Francis asked. "You generally get _more _vocalwhen you are comfortable, _cherie, _not less."

"Yes, well, Alfred is very different from me," Matthew said. "He talks more as a means of a defense."

"Are you sure he does not simply like to hear himself talk?" Francis asked, and Arthur felt an urge to punch him, for Matthew's sake. Sometimes Francis was Francis, even if he was a little better around Matthew. "I do not mean that I dislike your brother. I enjoy his company. I just generally find that talkative people talk because they like to." Matthew said nothing, but Arthur could tell that he disagreed.

Francis dropped Arthur off back at their flat before he went to spend more time with Matthew. Arthur closed the door behind him and thought for a moment. _Alfred, hmm? _He went back to his armchair, fished his knitting out of its bag, and started on the next row.

* * *

><p>Arthur did end up calling Alfred, though not without a little reassurance that he wouldn't be doing something unwanted. During one of the countless times when he had seen Matthew that week, Matthew had mentioned that Alfred had been asking about him – how he had been doing, whether Matthew had seen him recently. Matthew gave Alfred's number to Arthur and kindly suggested that he call him, so Arthur did.<p>

"Hey, Alfred here."

"Hello. It's Arthur." He fidgeted nervously, picking at the arm of his chair.

"Hey! I've been waiting for you to call. Listen, do you want to meet for lunch? Tomorrow, I mean, not today. Oh, duh, it's already past lunchtime. Haha."

Arthur wondered if he had accidentally dialed the wrong number. Did Alfred sound _nervous? _"Sure, I'd be up for that. Where do you want to meet?"

"What do you like?"

"What do I like?" Arthur thought about this. "Someplace quieter than yesterday."

"Done. Do you like Mexican food?"

"Uh. I don't know if I've ever had it."

"_Woah. _You don't know if you've ever had Mexican food? Okay, that's where we're going."

"Ha, okay," Arthur said. He was smiling. "What time?"

"12:30? It's this little place called _Luz del Sol. _I'll just meet you outside."

"Sounds good. I can meet you there."

"Great. I'll see you then!"

"Goodbye." Arthur hung up sat back with a smile. Maybe this wasn't going to be so bad.

* * *

><p>"<em>Mon ami, <em>I don't see why he couldn't have picked you up. This is _your _date."

"Francis, I told you, _it's not a date. _I don't want him to pick me up."

Francis sighed a long-suffering sigh. "Very well. I will be at lunch with Mattie, so call me when you are done."

"Thank you for driving," Arthur said stiffly. He got out and slammed the door behind him. He found the curb, stepped up onto it, and put his cane out in front of him. He made his way across the sidewalk and stopped when he hit wall. He leaned against it, trying to look nonchalant. He didn't have to wait long.

"Arthur! Hey!"

Arthur turned his head towards the sound. "Hey."

"How are ya doin'?"

"Fine. How are you?"

"Great. Come on, I'll lead you inside." He took Arthur's elbow and steered him through the door.

The restaurant was very small. Arthur could tell from the way their footsteps echoed off the walls. Alfred had promised him quiet, and he had delivered; there was perhaps one other group there, possibly another couple, possibly a quiet family. Alfred pulled out Arthur's chair for him, turning it into a gentlemanly gesture, not a condescending one. "This place is tiny," Alfred said as he took his own seat, "But I swear it has the best food. It's not just burritos and salsa. It's real mexican food, with lots of other stuff."

"I see," Arthur said. "What would you recommend, then?"

"Hmm. The sopes, maybe? Their burritos are good too, though, different than what you normally get."

"Uh, nothing too adventurous. A burrito sounds good."

"Cool."

There was the click of footsteps – the waiter, presumably. "What can I get you to drink?"

"Extra-large sprite for me."

"Water's fine," Arthur said.

"Still need a bit of time to decide?"

"Yes, please," said Alfred, and the waiter left. Arthur listened to Alfred flip through the menu for several minutes. "Okay, I know what I want," Alfred said finally, and closed the menu. "Do you want me to go through the burrito options?"

"No, I trust you. Whatever you think would be good."

"Cool." Alfred sounded happy. "So, what have you been up to?"

"Oh, not much." Arthur shrugged. "I've been doing what I usually do. Knit, listen to books on tape."

"You and Francis are roommates, right?"

"Yes, unfortunately," Arthur said with an exasperated sigh. "Not that he's a bad person for Matthew," he added quickly. "I've just known him for a very long time."

"I see." Alfred grinned. "You'd think you'd like him to be able to put up with him for that long."

Arthur snorted. "You would think."

"How long have you been roommates?"

Arthur sighed. "Oh, a long time. Off and on. He was my roommate for a year in college, too. Worst experience of my life," he added dryly.

Alfred chuckled. "So tell me, is he going to take care of Mattie okay?"

Arthur thought for a moment. "He seems to . . . genuinely care about Matthew. A lot. I think he wants it to work."

"That's good to hear."

Footsteps, the rustle of cloth, and a movement in the air. "Are you ready to order?"

"Oh, yeah. Sopes and a chimichanga for me, and a chicken burrito for my friend."

"Okay. Would you like the chimichanga with rice or beans?"

"Both?"

Arthur could hear the smile in the waiter's voice. "I can do that. It will be out in a moment." The waiter moved away and Alfred turned his attention back to Arthur.

"Do you have something you're really passionate about?"

Arthur had to think about that for a second. "Like a hobby?"

"Yeah."

"I suppose literature," he said, fiddling idly with his napkin. "I still 'read' all the time, in the only way I can. Books on tape and the like. Is it movies for you?"

"No, actually. Science. I love figuring out how things work."

"Doesn't that detract from your enjoyment of science fiction?"

"No way! It makes it cooler. I mean, sometimes, yeah, they mess up really basic chemical reactions or what would make the superhero mutate or whatever, but it's still like wow, this could really happen, or wow, they did such a great job with the special effects." Arthur could tell he was grinning. "I'm such a geek, I know, and I should care more about them getting it right and everything, but they just do such cool stuff with it. I hate it when people think that science is somehow unimaginative, or keeps people from imagining."

"Huh. I'd never though about it that way before. I've always been more drawn to fantasy."

"Oh?"

"Yes. I like it because I know it can't happen, actually. It's a nice escape."

"Science fiction is kinda like that for me too, because I know it's not _probable." _

Arthur smiled. "I see."

There was a slight pause. "I hope you don't mind me asking, but . . . what's it like, not being able to see?" Alfred sounded hesitant.

"It's fine, I'm over it at this point. There are certainly a lot of limitations, but . . . it's not as difficult as I thought it would be, I suppose. Or at least, it's gotten a lot easier. The amount of information we can pick up even without sight is pretty amazing."

"Yeah? I mean, I still can't really figure out what you're aware of and what you're not, you know?"

"Well, let's see." Arthur let his attention drift about the restaurant. "There's a couple sitting at the table diagonal to us, behind your left shoulder. The door to the kitchen is behind me, over my right shoulder, and it is an actual door. The floor is made of tile. The restaurant itself is long and narrow, so we're . . . I'm not very good at distances, but two tables from the front door. It's made of glass. You still haven't taken your silverware out of your napkin."

"Wow, there really isn't a whole lot I can add to that." Alfred sounded impressed. "I mean, the wallpaper is this kind of ugly pinkish color, so you're not really missing out, you know?"

Arthur smiled, pleased with himself. "Ah."

"It's actually really cool that you don't wear sunglasses. I would hate not being able to see your eyes, even if it doesn't mean anything to you." A slight movement in the air was all the warning Arthur had before Alfred's hand cupped his cheek and a thumb rubbed across his eyebrow. Arthur jerked backwards, knocking some of his silverware onto the floor in the process, and the hand fell away. "Woah, I'm sorry," said Alfred, and he sounded almost . . . hurt?

"It's fine," Arthur said. He leaned over and began frantically feeling around for his silverware. He could feel himself flushing. _Dammit Arthur, can't you just relax? _

"Here, I'll help." There was the scrapping of a chair against the floor and a kind of pressure near him; Alfred was close by, on his hands and knees if the sound of his breathing was anything to go by. There was the clank of metal against metal. "Found 'em. I'll put them on the table, okay?"

"Thanks," Arthur muttered, and pulled himself back upright. Alfred sat down and there was an awkward silence. Arthur put his elbows on the table and covered his face with his hands, willing his blush to go away. _Damn. You just have to mess up everything, don't you? _

"Sorry for the wait," said the waiter cheerfully, and Arthur sat back. He heard the clink of plates being set down. "Enjoy."

"Thanks," said Alfred, and there was the click of silverware against ceramic. Arthur organized his silverware and touched the edge of his plate. It was warm. "You can just pick it up with your hands," Alfred said around a mouthful of food. "They don't put any fancy sauces on it or anything."

Arthur took a tentative bite. The tortilla was soft, clearly fresh, and it was filled with rice, beans, chicken, and . . . was that mango? He took another bite. Fresh avocado, too.

"What do you think?"

Arthur swallowed. "It's very good," he replied, and meant it. He hesitated. "I'm really sorry. I overreacted. I'm . . . just not used to being touched."

"It was my fault. I shouldn't have done that. You were just being so touchy-feely the other day." He chuckled nervously.

"No, you're right, it's fair. Just . . . give me a little more warning next time?"

"Sure."

"Anyway, what were you going to say?"

"Oh, right. Just that you have really pretty eyes."

Arthur frowned. "I hardly think so. I imagine having milky-white pupils is rather creepy."

"Nah. It's . . . mysterious." There was a teasing tone to his voice.

Arthur snorted. "Mysterious? Never heard that one before."

"Yeah, or maybe mystical? Besides, it doesn't effect your irises. I never met someone with green eyes before."

"Really?"

"Yeah. That's part of why I'm glad you don't wear sunglasses, too. It looks really good on you."

"Oh." Arthur blushed slightly in pleasure.

Their conversation drifted from what Alfred's life had been like growing up with Matthew to what Arthur's life was like with Francis. Alfred revealed a love of burgers, french fries, and anything greasy. Arthur admitted that since moving to the states quite some time ago, he had missed being able to get fish and chips wherever he went.

Alfred walked Arthur out. "I should call Francis," Arthur said.

"I can drive you home."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I know where you and Francis live, 'cuz of Mattie. I've dropped him off before."

"I wouldn't want you to go out of your way."

"Psh, it's not that far. Besides, I'll get to talk to you a bit more."

Alfred's hand was warm on his shoulder. It felt nice. "Okay. I'd appreciate it."

Alfred filled the drive with easy talk, and Arthur was fully relaxed by the time they pulled up to his apartment building. "Do you want me to walk you up?"

"Nah, I'm fine."

"Okay. So, I'll see you again?"

"Yeah, of course," Arthur replied unthinkingly, and then realized that no, it wasn't of course. They hadn't talked about it at all.

"Was this a date, then?" Alfred sounded hopeful. Really hopeful. "Is that what we're thinking?"

"Sure," Arthur said, and he felt something warm grow in his chest.

"Great! I'll see you later."

"Yup. Bye." Arthur heard the car move away, and then he headed for the apartment complex. His cane gently swept the ground in front of him, back and forth. First date in more than three years, huh? Not so bad. Not so bad at all.

* * *

><p><em>End Part I<em>


	2. Part II

_Part II_

Their next date was on that Tuesday night. Alfred picked Arthur up after work and drove him downtown – Italian food this time. Alfred insisted on reading out the whole menu for Arthur, who eventually decided on the gnocchi with tomato sauce. Alfred ordered two different pasta dishes and requested an extra basket of bread ("I had to take an early lunch break today, so I'm super hungry," he explained). It turned out that Alfred was a technician in a local laboratory, a start-up (Arthur was still unclear as to what its purpose was), and his job was "doing stuff with bacteria." When Arthur asked him to elaborate, he immediately regretted it.

"So . . . you make them grow?" he hazarded after Alfred had tried to explain his job to him a second time.

"Well, yeah, technically, but _in specific ways. _See, they like to grow in colonies. . . ."

Eventually, Alfred got tired of talking about the bacteria. "So, I guess you don't work now?" he asked around a mouthful of pasta.

Arthur winced at his lack of tact. "Yes. I had quite a bit saved up anyway, and I get a monthly payment for my disability. Sharing the rent with Francis helps a lot, and he always cooks so he always pays for the food."

"Huh. It seems like you've got a good system going on."

"Yeah, it works well for me. Though I suppose I'm a bit of a burden for him sometimes." Arthur frowned and moved the gnocchi around in his bowl with his fork.

"I don't think he minds," Alfred said honestly. "I don't see how anyone would."

Arthur paused, surprised. Had it been anyone else, he would have thought that Alfred was simply being nice – but Alfred had shown himself to be such an open and truthful person, and he sounded so honest, Arthur almost believed him. "Thank you."

"Sure."

Arthur thought for a moment, still stirring the gnocchi around pointlessly. "I know you're curious," he said finally, "so if you'd like to know how it happened, I don't mind telling you about it."

"Really? I mean, only if it's okay with you. But, yeah." There was that smile in his voice again.

"I . . . was in a car accident. I think I saw it coming and was trying to brace for the impact – I don't even really know. But when it happened, I slammed forward and my eyes hit the steering wheel. I was taken to the hospital, of course, because I had a lot of other minor injuries, but that was some pretty severe blunt trauma. Cataracts formed on my eyes, one after the other. I used to be able to see light, basic shapes, but at this point I'm blind in all senses of the word."

"I see," Alfred said quietly. "That . . . must have really sucked."

Arthur shrugged. "I'm alive, and not so bad off, really."

"Whose fault was the accident? How did it happen?"

"No one's but mine. I was driving by myself, I was distracted and not paying attention, and I ran a red light."

Then Alfred asked the question no one had ever asked before. "Why were you distracted?"

Arthur swallowed. Alfred saw his expression and backpedaled. "I'm sorry, you don't have to answer if you don't want to, of course–"

"It's fine. I . . . had this friend, Antonio." He took a deep, shuddering breath and set down his silverware. "More than a friend for a while, actually. We had a nasty breakup, but we ended up being pretty close afterwards. I was driving home from work. Francis had been trying to call me all day but I'd had my phone off, so I was sitting in the parking lot when I finally called him back. He told me Toni was dead. Got mixed up in a gunfight." He knew his hands were twisting in his lap, and he tried to still them. "I shouldn't have been driving."

"I'm sorry," Alfred whispered. "Can I . . . touch your hand?"

"Yes." Arthur set his left hand on the table. Alfred slipped his hand underneath it and squeezed. "I think that's why Francis looks after me, actually," Arthur said. He felt like he should keep talking. "He feels guilty, since he was the one who told me." As soon as Arthur said it, he knew that it was true.

"It's nice that he's there for you, though."

"Yeah, it is." Arthur was quickly becoming lost in thought, and he withdrew his hand from Alfred's. He picked up his silverware and took another bite of his food. Alfred returned to his as well, and Arthur remembered little of their conversation after that point, if they had any. Alfred drove him home and walked him up to his door. Alfred hesitated a little outside, but then he simply touched Arthur quickly on the shoulder and said goodnight. Arthur lay awake in bed for a long time afterward, thinking. He had a lot of things to think to think about.

* * *

><p>Arthur started researching the next day, and it took another day for him to realize that yes, he really wanted to do this – <em>needed<em> to do this. The day after that, he was seated in his armchair when the front door opened and closed; Francis was home from work.

"Francis," he said.

Francis entered the living room. "Yes?"

"I'm moving out."

There was a moment of silence. "Who are you moving in with? Not Alfred already?"

"No, of course not," Arthur said exasperatedly. "I'm moving _out. _By myself."

"Arthur–"

Arthur stood up. "I've been depending on you for long enough. As much as I appreciate you putting up with me, it's high time I went back to being an independent adult. Besides, I know you. I've heard you with Mattie. I can guess how many times you've wanted to ask him to spend the night, but can't because you know I'd hear everything you were doing." He scowled in Francis's general direction and crossed his arms. "I know how important fucking him is to you. I wouldn't want to get in the way of your fun." He spat it out; he and Francis had had disagreements about this before.

"Arthur," Francis said quietly, furiously. "Matthew's here."

"What?" Arthur said quickly, startled. How could he have missed _another person _in the room? But now that he was looking for it, he could tell – the way the noise in the room sounded just slightly different, the slight extra rustle of cloth, the faint extra breathing. His mouth twisted unhappily and he wanted to swear. He had been so focused on _telling Francis_, it had never occurred to him that there might have been someone else there. He opened his mouth, but Matthew spoke first.

"Francis." Matthew did not sound pleased. "Is that what you've been thinking about? That already, eh?"

"_Mattieu. . . ." _

"Is that all I mean to you?"

"_Mattieu, _let me explain. _C'est seulement–_"

"_Je ne le veut pas entendre!" _Matthew sounded more than a little slowly backed towards the hallway.

_"Tu sais que je t'aime, que je t'adore. . . ." _

_"Eh? C'est vrai? Parce-que c'est difficile de le croire!" _

Arthur retreated quickly down the hall and closed his door, the sounds of muffled, angry French still reaching his ears.

* * *

><p>"Alfred?"<p>

"Hey, Artie! What's up?"

Arthur switched the phone into his other hand so he could turn on his computer. "I was wondering if you're free today."

"Today? Yeah, sure! What do you want to do, lunch again?"

"Actually, I was wondering if you'd like to come over here. I need help with something and Francis is, ah. . . ." He considered how to word it. "Not really talking to me."

"Oh, sure. What do you need help with?"

"Just sorting through some things on the computer. I'm trying to make a decision."

"Uh, okay. I'll be over in a bit."

"Great. Thanks."

"No prob. See ya."

"Bye."

Arthur hung up and hit the keyboard command to bring up his browser. Now, if only he could find the folder he had made of bookmarks of apartments in the area. . . .

* * *

><p>Alfred showed up at Arthur's door half an hour later. He knocked and Arthur opened the door. "Hey," Alfred said with a grin.<p>

"Hello," Arthur said. "Come in." He turned and walked back into the apartment.

Alfred obediently closed the door behind him and followed him inside. Arthur walked into the dining room and sat down at the table in front of an open laptop. Alfred glanced nervously into the living room, where Francis was reading a newspaper very, very seriously. "Uhhh, I thought you guys weren't talking."

"We're not," Arthur said. "Have a seat." He one-handedly pulled out the chair next to him, nearly ramming it into Alfred in the process. Alfred sat.

"So, what do you need help with?"

"I'm moving out, and I've narrowed it down to these apartments, but I can't see the pictures, obviously. I need you to tell me if I'm going to be moving into some run-down building with peeling paint in a horrible neighborhood."

"Woah, you're moving? Is that why Francis is mad at you?"

"No." Arthur glared at the screen.

"Er, so . . . why _is _he mad?"

"If you are curious, Alfred," said Francis from the other room, "Perhaps you should talk to your brother."

"My brother? Woah, Artie, did you like insult him or something? He was super pissed when he got home last night, but he just said he'd been fighting with Fran–" Francis snapped the newspaper angrily. "Er, hadn't had a good day."

Arthur bristled. "I did not _insult _him, exactly. It was . . . a misunderstanding."

"Alfred," said Francis. "Perhaps you should help Arthur with his search, so that he can start packing _as quickly as possible." _

"_Anyway," _said Arthur loudly, "What do you think of this one?" He tapped a key on his keyboard and the computer said: _"Town place. Near park, pleasant view. Pets allowed. No parking on curb. . . ." _The picture was of a pale peach building with dirty orange trim. The "garden" in front looked as though it had never seen a drop of water in its life.

"Uhh," said Alfred. "What does the inside look like?"

Two hours later, they had _finally _narrowed it down to three apartments within walking distance of downtown. Francis had long since departed for "the grocery store." Arthur closed his laptop with a little sigh. "Enough of that."

"Yeah. Do you want me to take you tomorrow to look at them?"

"Oh, that would be lovely. I should call ahead and check first, though."

"Ah, yeah." Alfred leaned back in his chair and watched Arthur. "So, why the sudden move? It doesn't really seem like you've been planning it for a long time."

Arthur shrugged. "Change of pace, I suppose. I mean, really. . . ." He suddenly looked tired. "I just realized that the only reason Francis has been putting up with me for so long is because he feels guilty. I don't want that. I'm tired of being pitied." He snapped out the last sentence more harshly than he had intended.

"Hey . . ." Alfred said slowly. "You don't think I'm pitying you, do you?"

"What? No." Arthur frowned at Alfred's chin.

Alfred would never tell him, because he would probably find it really, really insulting, but . . . it was really cute when Arthur thought that Alfred's face was where his earlobe was, or his collarbone, or a little too far over to the left. . . . Alfred chuckled a little.

Arthur scowled. "What?"

"Oh, nothing," Alfred said, too happily. "I'm glad." Arthur grumbled something under his breath but didn't pursue it. "So, what do you want to do now?"

"Eh, whatever," Arthur said with a sigh.

"Tired?"

"A bit."

"Then let's just sit on the couch."

Arthur looked into empty air thoughtfully. "Okay."

Alfred let Arthur position himself exactly in the center of the couch before sitting down himself. He scooted over so their legs were touching and then put an arm on the couch behind Arthur's head. Arthur was sitting up mostly straight with his hands clasped gently in his lap. "Hey," Alfred said, "If you're tired, why don't you just relax?"

"Hmm?" said Arthur, his eyes resting on Alfred's nose.

"Here," he said, and slowly put a hand on Arthur's shoulder. Arthur tensed up slightly and then relaxed. "You can rest on me." He pulled Arthur towards him so that Arthur's head was resting on his shoulder. Arthur immediately stiffened and clenched his hands tightly in his lap. Alfred noticed this, but he also noticed that Arthur didn't pull away. After a moment, he began to gently stroke Arthur's hair.

It felt nice and soothing, and Arthur gradually began to relax. Over and over, his hand went, over and over. . . . Arthur let himself lean fully against Alfred. _See? _he thought to himself. _Not so bad. . . . _He let his eyes slip closed, even though he knew there was no chance that he'd fall asleep. It was the middle of the day, after all, and he never took naps. . . .

Sometime later, Arthur was startled awake by a loud snoring sound. His head jerked, but he forced himself to remain still as he tried to figure out where he was. His head was resting against something, and there was a warmth on his right shoulder and all down his left side. He was leaning against . . . Alfred. Right. Another snore rippled through the air and he felt the vibrations through Alfred's skin. He bit his lip to keep from laughing at the strange sensation. His neck was sore and he contemplated sitting up, but he decided against it. It was . . . sweet that Alfred had fallen asleep too, and he didn't want to spoil it.

The door clicked open and heavy footsteps hit the floor of the entrance way. _Francis. _Arthur immediately began to work his head out from underneath Alfred's. _If that git thinks I've been sitting here cuddling the whole time. . . . _The door shut and the footsteps grew closer. Arthur gave up trying to be nice about it and jerked his head out from its position. He felt Alfred's head bump against his as it fell down without any support, and Alfred gave a little yelp that sounded like "Ow!" Arthur heard Francis's rich chuckle and realized too late that Alfred's arm was still draped around his shoulders.

"Jeez, Artie," Alfred said as he shifted beside Arthur, "What was that for?"

"Good to see you two relaxing," Francis said, laughter in his voice.

"Oh, hey Francis," Alfred said with a yawn, and then _actually pulled Arthur closer. _Arthur let out a noise of protest and squirmed. Alfred seemed to interpret that as, _Please rub your nose in my hair because I am definitely not embarrassed right now in the slightest, _because that was exactly what he did. Arthur jerked backwards, completely mortified, and stood up hastily.

"Arthur, I think you have been too hasty," Francis said, still sounding amused. "I know you have put a lot of work into trying to find yourself a suitable apartment, but I have just talked to the landlord and there is a free apartment on this very floor of the building. He even gave me a quote."

"Oh?" said Arthur suspiciously. "And why are you suddenly being so helpful?"

"I . . . happened . . . to meet Matthew while I was out shopping. Suffice to say you have not managed to completely ruin this relationship of mine." Francis sniffed condescendingly. Arthur snorted. "Besides, as irritating as you can be, I can't allow you to starve."

"Starve?" asked Alfred curiously.

"Indeed," said Francis. "Arthur's cooking is . . ."

"Perfectly fine," Arthur snapped.

"Hardly," Francis said, and Arthur knew he was smirking. "I will not even let you submit _yourself _to it. It would be cruel, especially as I seem to recall your few attempts since the accident to be even worse than before. At least if you remain in the same building I can send over some food or invite you to dinner." Arthur seethed silently. "Oh, speaking of," continued Francis, "Alfred, would you like to stay for dinner?"

"Nah. What time is it? Oh, wow, I should be going." Alfred stood up and stretched. Arthur could actually hear his spine cracking, could almost see his muscles shifting under his thin shirt. . . . Arthur turned a little pink and resisted the urge to bury his face a cushion. He settled for glaring sullenly at the floor. "Thanks for the offer, though. It was nice to see you, Arthur." Alfred patted Arthur's shoulder and then breezed past him.

"Thanks," Arthur muttered. He heard Alfred put on his shoes and then the rustling of what was probably his jacket.

"So just call me and let me know if you want to look at places tomorrow?"

"Right," Arthur replied.

"See ya," Alfred said, and then the door closed behind him.

"So," said Francis, and he was definitely grinning, no doubt about it: "I take it you two are an item now?"

Arthur picked up the nearest pillow and threw it at him. He hit Francis square in the face.

* * *

><p>Alfred came over at two in the afternoon the next day to look at the apartment Francis had suggested. Arthur insisted that Alfred describe <em>everything <em>to him, from the state of the wallpaper to the color of the carpet. Then Arthur paced back and forth across every inch of the floor, "listening to his footsteps," he told Alfred; apparently it was his way of familiarizing himself with the space and deciding if it echoed too much. He had Alfred go through every cupboard in the kitchen and examine every tile of the countertop. By the time Arthur was finally satisfied, Alfred was exhausted.

"Jeez, no wonder you haven't done this before," he said as they were leaving. "That took _forever." _

"Well, I'm about to invest in it, and I hardly want to make a mistake," Arthur replied. There was a slight spring to his step that Alfred hadn't seen there before. "That felt quite nice, actually. I'm very glad we did it. Thank you for coming with me."

"You're welcome," Alfred said with a smile.

Arthur stopped quite suddenly. "Wait, don't move."

The smile immediately fell from Alfred's face. "What? What is it?"

Arthur reached a hand up to Alfred's face and touched his cheek. "I _told _you not to move, you dolt," he said. "I've been wanting to see your smile for a while now, but of course now you've gone and lost it."

"Oh, is that all?" Alfred asked, and grinned in relief. He saw a faint blush dust Arthur's cheeks and an answering smile appear on his face. He raised his other hand to Alfred's face and traced his fingers along the curve of his lips, the creases near his eyes, the slight dimples in his cheeks. Alfred was almost disappointed when Arthur's fingers fell away.

"Thank you," said Arthur, looking up at Alfred. His sightless eyes met Alfred's, and Alfred could almost trick himself into believing that Arthur could really see him.

"No problem," he replied, and gently took Arthur's hand under the pretense of leading him to the car. It was soft and cool, and he was glad that Arthur had stopped paying attention to him because he was smiling way too much.

* * *

><p>They relaxed in Arthur and Francis's apartment for a while, and then they went to dinner. As they drove over, Arthur started stressing about what he was going to do to actually move. Almost all of the furniture in the shared apartment was Francis's, but furniture was expensive. The only important thing (in his opinion) that he could count on having was his teakettle. Yes, he supposed he wouldn't really need any pots or pans, but he would at least need a bowl and cookie sheet for baking scones – so why not go all out?<p>

"Look," Alfred finally said with a chuckle, "I'll help you move, I'll go shopping with you, and I'm sure you'll be able to steal some of Francis's stuff. You don't need to worry about it."

"Really? You'd help me move?" That gave Arthur pause. "Thank you. I seem to be saying that a lot."

"It's really not any trouble. Besides, that's what I'm here for." Alfred grinned.

Contrary to his expectations, going to dinner actually made Arthur calmer. The restaurant wasn't particularly fancy or romantic, and it was reasonably crowded, but Alfred made it all worth it. He was so easy to talk to and so . . . _wonderful_, Arthur decided. That was the word he wanted.

Alfred drove him home and walked him to his door. "I had a really nice time today," Arthur said sincerely. "I really appreciated having your help."

"No problem," Alfred said easily. "It was fun."

Arthur smiled a little. "Somehow I have a hard time believing that."

"No, really. It was great to spend the whole day with you." Alfred was grinning, Arthur knew. There was a pause as Alfred shuffled his feet. "So. Third date's the charm, right?"

"Pardon?"

"This is our third date." Before Arthur had time to reply that yes, it was, but why was he asking, Alfred said, "I'm going to kiss you now, so don't freak out, okay?" Alfred put a gentle hand on the back of his head and did just that.

Arthur . . . well. He hadn't kissed anyone, or had anyone kiss him, in a very long time. And perhaps it was simply an effect of paying more attention to his other senses, but he could swear that his hearing and sense of touch had become sharper since the accident. When Alfred's lips touched his, he could _feel _Alfred so intensely, he forgot that he needed to breathe until Alfred's lips left his to gasp a little bit of air. "Was that okay?" Alfred asked worriedly. _Was that okay? _Arthur thought dumbly. _Was that OKAY?_ He cleared his throat.

"Um, yes. That was . . . that was fine."

"Okay, cool," Alfred said, too happily. "Can I do that again?"

Arthur started to nod in agreement, but then he realized what he was doing. Since when had he become so passive? He reached out his hands and buried them in Alfred's hair. He pulled Alfred's head down to meet his. "Yes," he said throatily, and then he kissed Alfred back.

Alfred wrapped an arm around Arthur's waist and pulled him flush against him. There was so much heat. Arthur could feel everywhere they touched, and he wanted more, _Oh God he wanted so much more. . . ._ Alfred shifted and put a hand on his jaw, tilting his head so he could let his tongue flicker into Arthur's mouth. Arthur wrapped his arms around Alfred's neck, opening his mouth and letting Alfred in. . . .

The door clicked open. "Arthur, what are you– _Mon Dieu!" _

"Dammit Francis," Arthur hissed, glaring at him with as much force as he could muster. He still had both arms looped tightly around Alfred's neck, though Alfred's grip on his waist had slackened somewhat. "Can't you just leave us be?"

Francis chuckled. Alfred released Arthur completely. "Uhh, maybe I should be going."

Francis's chuckle dissolved into full-out laughter. "Fine," Arthur muttered, and let his arms drop to his sides. "I'll call you later."

"Yeah, okay, great, I'll look forward to it," Alfred said very quickly. "Bye." He half walked, half ran down the hallway. Arthur turned and resumed glaring at Francis, who was having trouble breathing.

"You – you thought _I _was the one suffering from sexual tension?" Francis gasped out. "_Of course _it was all just for my benefit!"

"It was, stupid frog," Arthur returned with a scowl, and pushed past him into the apartment.

"If I'd known–!" Francis said, and his chortling followed Arthur down the hall, even after he had closed the door to his bedroom.

* * *

><p>Arthur contacted the landlord and made all the necessary arrangements to move into the apartment. Its previous inhabitants had already relocated, so a week later Arthur started moving.<p>

The boxes piled up quickly. At first, it seemed like he had barely anything – some clothes, his teakettle, the armchair that Francis had been dying to replace anyway. Then he got into his bookshelves. They were still full out of nostalgia, and also with some vague idea that he could impress people who came over. Of course he wasn't about to throw out all his books _now. _He had gradually been collecting books on tape as well, so naturally all of those had to come. The bookshelves themselves were mostly his, so they had to be disassembled and moved. When Arthur had finally finished packing, he called Alfred. Even Matthew and Francis helped bring over boxes for a while, and before long Arthur's new apartment was almost feeling like home.

Sometime in the afternoon, Arthur took a break for tea while Alfred, Francis, and Matthew moved "the big furniture." The armchair was no difficulty since Alfred practically carried it the whole way by himself, but by the time the trio had carried the bed frame to Arthur's doorway, they were all just about ready to murder Arthur, each other, and the bed frame itself.

"_Merde, _we have to flip it on its side again. _Mattieu, _are your feet safe?"

"Yes, Francis," Matthew replied tiredly.

"Alright. One, two . . . _three!" _There was a loud thump and Alfred swore. "Alfred!" Francis cried exasperatedly. "Did you not hear what I just said?"

"It's fine, just caught my toe – ow, that hurts. . . ."

"Suck it up, Al," Matthew muttered.

"Yeah, I know, sorry. Here. Ready? Go!" All three of them groaned as they heaved the frame off the ground.

"A little to the left," Francis said through gritted teeth. There was a _thunk _and Alfred made a strange _hrmph_-ing noise. "_My _left!"

"Your right," Arthur said helpfully from the armchair, where he was contentedly sipping a cup of tea.

"Shut up, Arthur," all three of them said at once.

They eventually got it into the bedroom. Alfred was the first to reappear, smacking his hands together in a pleased way. "Well Artie, if you ever want your bed in a different place, you can move it yourself," he said happily.

"I concur," Francis growled from behind him. Matthew just sighed.

After tea, coffee, and some biscuits, everyone was feeling much more amiable. "So what should we do to celebrate the move?" Alfred asked. "I guess you wouldn't be up for a real party, huh?" He sounded disappointed.

"I'd say we could just watch a movie or something, but that would hardly work very well," Matthew said tiredly.

"Aw, yeah." Alfred patted Arthur's hand gingerly. "Sorry. Maybe just eat chips and salsa and pretend we're watching a movie?"

"You're not helping," Arthur said through gritted teeth.

Suddenly Francis chuckled. "I just remembered. Arthur, do you remember when I wanted to watch a movie that one time? It was pretty soon after, and I think you'd been wanting to see it for a while. . . ."

"Oh, right. I'd forgotten about that." Arthur tilted his head thoughtfully.

"What?" Alfred demanded. "What happened?"

"I was sitting in the living room, getting ready to watch it, and as soon as Arthur heard me turn the TV on he sort of casually made his way into the room and sat down next to me. I wanted to watch it by myself, so I refused to explain what was going on but he insisted on sitting through the whole thing with me, even though he had nothing to go on but the audio. And he stole half my popcorn, too," he added.

"I did not. You offered it to me," Arthur said calmly.

"Now first of all," Francis continued, "You should know that very soon after I met Arthur I realized that watching movies with him was very unenjoyable." Arthur snorted dismissively.

"Why?" Alfred asked, clearly riveted by the story.

"Do you know how sometimes when you are watching a movie, you know what a character is going to say before they say it? Perhaps they are telling a joke with an obvious punchline, or it's a particularly cheesy scene that you've seen before."

"Sure," said Alfred.

"Arthur _always _knows what they're going to say next – even, as I found out, when he can't see what the hell is going on." Arthur smirked. "And the most irritating thing isn't even that sometimes he says what they're going to say next. It's when he makes this little snorting noise, because he's already starting to laugh at what hasn't even happened yet."

Alfred laughed. "I know _exactly _what you're talking about!"

"So," Francis said, "I propose that we _do _have a movie night, _cher Mattieu,_ because then, Alfred, you will be able to recognize how amazingly annoying your boyfriend truly is."

Alfred chuckled while Arthur turned bright pink. "Can I pick the movie?" Alfred asked excitedly.

"Oh no," groaned Matthew. "Not–"

"_2104 TC__101 __Omega: The Last True Planet!" _

"This is the movie I mentioned to you," Matthew murmured.

"With the aliens, right?" Arthur murmured back.

"Aw, Matt, don't tell me you spoiled it for him!"

"Just a little," Arthur said quickly. "I just asked him what sort of science fiction movie it was."

"Wait, so you don't know anything about it except that it has aliens in it?" said Alfred hopefully. "Oh, that's fine then! See, the title's a joke because the planet is named kinda as if it's a dwarf planet, so it's not a true planet at all, but it turns out it's not even a dwarf planet! So it's metaphorical and stuff. It's really cool! You totally have to see it. Well, hear it." Alfred slung an arm around Arthur's neck.

"Er, right," said Arthur. "I'm sure I'll enjoy it."

"So, tomorrow night then?" Francis asked. "We'll have to have it at my place, of course, because Arthur does not have a TV. . . ."

"Sure! Sounds good," Alfred said.

"I thought this was supposed to be my party," Arthur mumbled.

"Oh, it is," Alfred said happily. "And it's going to be the best party ever!"

"_Mattieu," _Francis said pointedly, "Why don't we go back to my apartment?"

"Okay," said Matthew, taking the hint. "Bye Arthur, Alfred. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yup. See ya," said Alfred. The door closed. "Sheesh, I thought they'd never leave."

"So did I," Arthur said with a long sigh.

"Sooo," Alfred said, tangling his fingers in Arthur's hair, "What do you say we pick up where we left off the other night?"

"Where was that, exactly?" Arthur asked with a raised eyebrow. He felt Alfred's fingers tuck underneath his chin and tilt his head upwards.

"Right here," Alfred whispered, and then kissed him sweetly.

Arthur let the sensation wash over him, filling all his senses that remained. He reached out and grasped Alfred's thin shirt gently in his hands. He could feel his skin underneath, warm and soft. Their lips parted for a moment and Arthur's hands went to Alfred's face, keeping him still. He brushed his lips across Alfred's cheek, then his forehead, feeling his hair tickle his face. He pressed kisses to his right temple, then his eyelids in turn. Alfred's eyelashes fluttered underneath him and he brushed them with his lips, too. He pressed his forehead to Alfred's contentedly. "I thought I would miss my sight when I found someone like you," he murmured, and he knew that Alfred was looking at him intently. "I almost do, sometimes, I can't deny that, but. . . ." He let his hands settle on Alfred's hips, feeling the warmth of him filtering through the fabric. "In the moments like this, somehow you make me not care."

Alfred didn't say anything, just kissed him again, but Arthur knew that he understood. He could feel it in the way Alfred put his hands on the small of Arthur's back, the way he settled his nose against Arthur's cheek and breathed him in. _I love you, _were the unspoken words that hung between them. _I don't know how it happened so fast, but it did. Here we are, and may we never loose this feeling. _

* * *

><p><em>End Part II<em>

_Author's note: _**Edit:**I added a bit to the ending. :) Hopefully it feels more complete now to you, too.

Yes, I actually looked up how to name dwarf planets. All I can really tell you is that 2104 is the year it was discovered (or named, maybe?). I added on the "Omega" just for fun, though, because since when have the titles of science fiction movies been accurate? XD To be clear, that movie doesn't exist. At all.

Translations of the French:

_C'est seulement–: _It's only–

_Je ne le veut pas entendre!: _I don't want to hear it!

_Tu sais que je t'aime, que je t'adore. . . .: _You know that I love you, that I adore you. . . .

_Eh? C'est vrai? Parce-que c'est difficile de le croire!: _Eh? That's true? Because it's difficult to believe it!

_Mon Dieu: _My God

_Merde: _Shit


End file.
